Sentimental Generation
by TinyPalm
Summary: Class 2C goes on a trip again! Harima is determined to confess his love to Tenma, as Hanai is to Yakumo, but will everything go as they planned? Only one way to find out!


**Disclaimer: I do not own School Rumble**

**Rating: K+**

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Prologue

_Harima's back was turned, his eyes staring off to some distant point. The sky was tinted red by the setting sun, the light spring breeze tugging at the hem of his black shirt, sending it flapping rhythmically in the wind. Harima took off his sunglasses, allowing himself for a moment to close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath. _

_It was the perfect setting._

_Behind him, Tenma stood with a letter held in her hand. She had found it lying inside her desk just after school. The neatly folded paper held beautiful handwriting that had undoubtedly been practiced numerous times over, and was enclosed in an envelope sealed with a heart-shaped sticker._

_The letter itself was anonymous, and only instructed her to be in this exact location at this exact time. But it would take someone a lot denser than her to _not_ figure out what was going on._

'_Listen, Tenma,' Harima finally began, and the shorter girl found herself tensing slightly. 'There's something I've been meaning to tell you. I've wanted to tell you this for a long time now, but something's always come up.' He turned around to look her in the eyes. His heart raced; it took tremendous effort to keep his stare firm and unwavering, yet he was determined to see this through._

_He took a deep breath and said, 'I love you. Would you please go out with me?'_

This is it._ Harima told himself._ The moment of truth.

_Anxiety gripped his chest as he watched the girl's reactions carefully. He had rehearsed that exact line and let this scene play out in his mind before, and he had thought he was thoroughly prepared. He was wrong. The intense, almost tangible feelings that Harima had to overcome right now were something the mind could _not_ imagine._

_Silence hung for what seemed like an eternity to Harima. He waited anxiously as Tenma slowly reached for her heart, her cheeks flushed in a light shade of pink. The wind played with Tenma's hair for a while, and she put it back into place._

'_Harima, I…'_

Growwwl…

The strong protest from Harima's stomach pulled him abruptly out of the fantasy world, and back into his darkened room.

'ARGH!' Harima cursed aloud. 'Why does it always happen at times like this?'

He looked down at his script and the unfinished conversation bubble. The last few pages of the manga had been a true joy to draw. He had captured the characters' emotions perfectly, the compelling storyline leading up to that one moment. And now, thanks to his need to eat at inappropriate times, that moment was ruined.

It was already bad enough if it was any ordinary manga. Yet the one Harima was drawing was anything but ordinary – it would be his official 'confession' tomorrow.

Yep, summer vacation was here and members of class 2C had been planning on another trip. Needless to say, Tenma was among those members, and Harima hadn't wasted any time signing up for the event.

Now all he had to do was finish the manga tonight, so he could show Tenma sometime during the trip. This would be his own way of confessing his love, the manga that was only for Tenma.

Harima checked his watch. _3:24._ If he was willing to pull an all-nighter, he should be able to make it before sunrise.

His gaze was drawn to the unfinished bubble again. He slowly picked up his fishbone pen. 'Just… let me… finish this…'

GROWWWL!

Harima threw down his pen and stood up, murmuring something under his breath as he dragged himself to the fridge. He made sure to light-step his way across the living room – this would be a bad time to aggravate his cousin, and waking her up in the middle of the night was a sure way to aggravate her.

Harima hummed a tune as he opened the door to the fridge. He took a look at the contents arranged neatly inside, and his gaze was immediately drawn toward a delicious-looking bacon sandwich placed in the middle. His stomach growled again in anticipation as he reached out for the newfound treasure longingly. Then his eyes happened on a small paper sticking out under the sandwich. It read: 'Do Not Touch'.

His hand froze, but only for a moment. Then he snorted. 'That Itoko… if she thinks this is enough to stop me, she's seriously underestimating me.' Yet at the same time, Harima had been booby-trapped enough times to know that this cousin of his had more than a single slip of paper up her sleeve. To be safe, he did a test-run and made sure to withdraw his hand quickly after making contact with the sandwich.

Nothing happened.

Harima nearly pranced for joy. Itoko had been truly careless this time, and Harima was about to taste the sweet taste of victory that came from outsmarting his cousin. With that in mind, Harima happily grabbed the sandwich and took a big bite, all while resisting the urge to laugh in a maniacal manner.

He instantly regretted it.

Instead of the delicious flavor of the bacon he had fully expected, his tongue registered only pain as it came in contact with the thick layer of wasabi that lined the inside of the sandwich.

Harima clutched his throat and coughed the sandwich up as he stumbled his way to the kitchen. He located the water jar and picked it up urgently, only to find it was empty. On the jar was another note. It read: 'Serves you right.'

Harima grumbled. His tongue burned and was starting to go numb from the pain. He needed water, and fast. He threw the jar away, leaped for the kitchen faucet, turned it all the way and stuck his tongue out toward it.

Empty! Harima had already half-expected the faucet to be rigged as well, but he still couldn't stifle the groan that rose from his now-burning throat.

Out of ideas, Harima spent the next ten minutes gagging and holding back tears of pain. What he didn't know, however, was that all this was not lost on his cousin. On the other side of the house, in a bedroom next to Harima's, Itoko Osakabe had heard everything. The little comedy act in the dead of night had proved to be quite enjoyable. On the bed, she rolled once and mumbled, 'Idiot.'


End file.
